


The Shirt

by Hazel75



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, F/M, Office Porn, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shirt Porn, Tie Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 17:31:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3455741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hazel75/pseuds/Hazel75
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil wears a tight shirt.  Skye likes.  Hijinks ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shirt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RowboatCop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowboatCop/gifts), [Skyepilot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/gifts), [zauberer_sirin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/gifts), [Persiflage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/gifts).



> Inspired by tumblr convos regarding a gif set with Clark Gregg in a tightish shirt and a very attractive, old-fashioned tie.

“Do that again.” Skye’s sitting on the couch, watching Coulson pull up and review files from the Black Box.

 

“Do what?”

 

“Wave your arm. No, no, that’s not right. Pull it back, and put it on your waist.” Skye demonstrates.

 

He follows her direction, although he finds her instructions strange.

 

“All right. Now move your elbow back, slowly.” He does as she says. “Stop, yeah, hold that. Nice.” She sighs and leans back on the couch.

 

“Am I allowed to ask what’s going on or is that against the rules of this little game you’re having me play?”

 

“Just confirming a theory.”

 

“And what theory is that?”

 

She pushes herself to her feet and walks over to stand in front of him, smirking.

 

“That, in that shirt, I can totally see the shape of your right pec when you move your arm just right. In fact, right now, I can see your pert, little nipple through your shirt.” He feels his cock twitch in his pants at her words and looks down at his chest.

 

“Huh. You’re right.”

 

Skye stretches her left arm out and traces a line on his chest with a finger.

 

“So how long do I have to stand like this while you objectify me?”

 

“Until I say you can move.” She scrapes her nail over the nub through his shirt, and he inhales deeply. “Is that going to be a problem?” Skye asks sharply, holding his eyes with hers, before grinning.

 

He swallows and shakes his head. “No, of course not.”

 

“Good.” She walks behind him and moves her hands over his shoulders, down his arms, stopping to grip his biceps appreciatively, before sliding them over his ass and giving a quick squeeze. She then presses the length of her body against him, breasts against his back and he would almost swear he could feel her nipples through their clothes, as she brings her arms around him to slide her hands up his stomach to his chest until he can feel her palms over his pectoral muscles. There’s another throb in his groin as he tries (and fails) to swallow a moan.

 

“Okay, now,” Skye says, letting go and moving back in front of him, “loosen your tie.”

 

He hooks a finger in the knot and tugs slowly, catching on, waiting for her to tell him when.

 

“Stop.” She reaches and pulls his collar up and steps back. “Now unbutton your shirt.”

 

He starts to and then glances towards the door. Skye gestures for him to wait and walks over to lock the door. When she gets back, she motions for him to continue. He pauses between each button, watching her carefully, as his fingers move down the shirt. When he reaches his waistband, she moves around him, pulling his shirt from his pants, so that he can complete his task. He moves to take off his tie when his shirt is fully unbuttoned, and she wags a finger at him.

 

“Nope. I didn’t say Simon Says. Just for that put your hands back on your waist.”

 

That movement draws his shirt apart, and she moves closer, taking his tie in her fist and pulling on it until his lips are a hairsbreadth from her. She doesn’t move to close the distance, instead whispering _do as you’re told_ before pushing him back again. She pulls his shirt open further and moves closer until he can just feel the warmth from her open mouth, her breath against his skin, and he wants her lips against his skin, but he’s not going to break the rules again. So instead, he stands as still as he can, fighting the urge to sway forward as she moves across his chest until finally she rewards him by pressing firm, open-mouthed kisses against the scar in the middle of his chest, leaving a trail of moisture behind. When she moves to suck hard against each of his nipples, he shudders and can’t stop his hips from bucking forward, and she laughs softly against his skin, the puffs of air ruffling his chest hair.

 

She steps back again and scrutinizes him, like she’s planning her next move, and he can feel his cock pressing against his inseam and tightens his hands on his waist to keep from adjusting himself.

 

“Okay, take your shirt off. But don’t touch that tie again.” He unbuttons his cuffs and pulls the shirt off one sleeve at a time, until he’s holding the shirt by the collar in his left hand.

 

“Can I?” He gestures to the chair with the hand holding the shirt.

 

“Drop it. On the floor.” He purses his lips and stops short of rolling his eyes but does as she says, watching his shirt lie in a crumpled heap on the floor.

 

She wrinkles her nose at him and smiles. “You don’t like that, do you? You’d like to have it neatly placed on the chair or on a hanger, wouldn’t you? Because it’s going to get wrinkled, isn’t it?” This time, he does roll his eyes and, then, laughs more at himself than her.

 

“I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”

 

“I know,” and his voice is too high and he clears his throat before continuing, “I know you will.” And he does, know that.

 

“Now, take your cock out,” she says, pressing her hand to his groin as he moves to unbuckle his belt before unbuttoning and unzipping his pants, his hand brushing hers in the process.

 

“He’s an impatient thing, isn’t he?” Skye observes, pointing to the head of his dick which is poking its way out of the top of his briefs.

 

“Always.” Coulson pushes his underwear down a bit and takes his cock in his right hand. “Now what?” he asks, raising his eyebrow and letting himself smirk at Skye.

 

She returns the eyebrow with a grin and does the universe gesture for jerking off with her hand. “Have at it.”

 

As he moves his hand slowly up and down his dick, she moves around him, trailing hands and fingers and hair and lips over the skin of his back, shoulders and ass, every so often punctuating a caress with her nails and teeth. She gives his chest and arms the same attention, and he begins moving his hand more roughly, tugging at his balls gently with the other. She trails her hands down his arms as she drags her open mouth down his chest, moving her tongue against his skin as he watches her bend to squat and lick his navel. She keeps going until his hand is bumping against her chin as she sucks on the skin above his groin.

 

Skye gets on her knees and tilts her head back to look up at him, and he wouldn’t be surprised if he was drooling from his gaping mouth. She grins wickedly at him, eyes wide, as she moves one hand on top of his and moves her other to grip his thigh as she takes him into her mouth.

 

He hears himself force a desperate _Skye_ from his throat.

 

She hollows her cheeks as she moves her mouth back and forth on his cock, stroking the underside with her tongue. He struggles to refrain from thrusting as she picks up the pace, keeping her hand on his.

 

“Oh, God, Skye, I’m gonna…” And with that speech leaves him and all he can do is groan as he comes in her mouth. Her tongue is a firm caress as she swallows his spendings.

 

He moves his hand to her cheek, his thumb trembling as he strokes the side of her face. She keeps him in her mouth as he begins to soften before moving her head back and reaching up to tug him down by his tie until he half sits, half collapses in front of her.

 

Skye keeps her hold on his tie, pulling him to her, until she can press her lips to his, sliding her tongue into his mouth as he lets out a shuddering breath. He can taste himself as they share a slow, deep kiss. As she pulls back, she tugs on his bottom lip with her teeth before letting go.

 

“So, yeah, I like that shirt, Phil. You should wear it more often,” Skye says, smiling against his mouth.

 

“Fuck, I’ll order a dozen more of them today,” he replies, moving his lips over her cheeks, nose, eyes and finally resting them on her forehead as he cradles the back of her head in one hand.

 

“Great idea. Now, my turn.”

 

"Good."  Payback's going to be hell, Coulson thinks, as he yanks his tie up over his head and slips it over hers. 


End file.
